Page 31 of My Playboy Neighbor

"It doesn't matter.What matters is salvaging what's left.This campaign with you—it's my last shot.I can't afford any more distractions."

After everything they'd shared, after that moment when she'd felt him ready to open his heart, she was just a distraction.

"I see."

"Good.Then we understand each other."

But she was already raising her camera again, this time capturing the exact moment his facade cracked.The resulting image would be devastating—all edges and barely contained desperation, the kind of vulnerability that would make people stop and stare.

"Stop," he said.

"Why?This is good.This is what Colleen wants—authentic emotion."

"That's not authentic, it's invasive."

She lowered her camera, studying his face."When was the last time someone actually saw you?Really saw you, not just the image you project?"

"That's not what this is about."

"Isn't it?"She stepped closer, her frustration finally boiling over."You're so afraid of being vulnerable that you'd rather push away anyone who might actually care about you."

He went very still."Care about me?"

Maya held his gaze."Yes.Care about you.The real you, not the brand or the reputation."

He stared at her steadily.For a moment, she thought he might actually acknowledge what had almost happened between them the night before.

Then his phone buzzed with an incoming call, and the moment was over.

"We should head back."Dom glanced at the screen."I have calls to make."

She nodded, swallowing her disappointment.But as they packed up the equipment, she made a decision.If he was determined to keep her at arm's length, to pretend that moment of vulnerability at Club Inferno had never existed, then she would find another way to preserve what was real between them.

Back in his suite, she downloaded the day's photos while he disappeared to take his calls.The images from their confrontation were particularly powerful—Dom's mask slipping to reveal the vulnerable man underneath.Without hesitation, she copied them the unguarded folder.

Over the following days, the folder grew.Maya documented everything—the way Dom's hands looked when he thought no one was watching, the concentration on his face during their increasingly intense private encounters, the rare moments when he forgot to guard his expressions.

She was careful, discreet.Never bringing her professional camera into their private moments, never violating the obvious boundaries.But everything else was fair game—candid shots between poses, artistic compositions that captured their evolving dynamic, sketches that processed what the camera couldn't quite convey.

Each night, Dom would summon her with a text.Maya would go to him, craving the surrender and connection even as she recognized the pattern forming.Dom pushed her boundaries with methodical precision, introducing her to new forms of pleasure and pain that left her gasping and transformed.But afterward, he would retreat behind those impenetrable walls, discussing the next day's schedule while Maya lay vulnerable in his bed.

The contradiction was killing her.

By the third morning, she felt like she was drowning in the tension between what they shared in private and his determination to keep things purely physical.She was falling in love with a man who refused to acknowledge she existed beyond their arrangement.

That afternoon's shoot was different.He seemed particularly on edge, his jaw clenched with barely contained stress.When she tried to direct him into more natural poses, he snapped.

"Just take the fucking pictures.Stop trying to psychoanalyze me through your lens."

"I'm not psychoanalyzing you," Maya shot back."I'm trying to capture something real for once instead of this perfect mask you insist on wearing."

"This mask is what pays the bills."

"This mask is what's destroying you."

Dom's eyes flashed dangerously."You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?When was the last time you admitted you needed something more than just physical release and professional success?"

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